


The Life We Wrote- LS AU

by Emmylou_lou



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Cancer, Depressed Harry, Depressed Louis, Depression, Drug Use, Explicit Sexual Content, Gay Sex, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Rough Sex, Sad, Self-Harm, Sex, Sick Louis, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Triggers, University Student Harry, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 14:40:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1391446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmylou_lou/pseuds/Emmylou_lou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>car·pe di·em ˌkärpā ˈdēˌem/ exclamation 1. used to urge someone to make the most of the present time and give little thought to the future.</p><p>"1. I love you 2. You love me 3. Why not?"</p><p> </p><p>(Full description) One is a clinically depressed, struggling twenty four year old crisis counselor who has been fighting prostate cancer for the last eight years. The other is a recently widowed, twenty two year old UNI student, with a serious case of wanderlust, struggling with his responsibilities and seeing the positive in life. Fate- The development of events beyond a person's control, regarded as determined by a supernatural power. Life has been a struggle for these two young lads, both fighting to keep control. But what happens when fate intervenes on one crucial night- Can Harry save Louis from his past? Can Louis save Harry from his future? Could one special London bridge bring these two strangers together in a way they’d never imagined? One thing is for certain- fate works in mysterious ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Life We Wrote- LS AU

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning! Explicit content. Male x Male   
> Don't say I didn't warn you.   
> This story is purely a work of fiction and I have no connection to the real Harry&Louis, so I have no idea whatsoever if they have crazy wild butt-sex every night (They totally do though) ((And Louis tops))

The vicious London air cuffed Louis straight across the face as he treaded out into the frigid night. The desolate streets surrounded him in a blanket of white snow as silence rang loudly through his rosy-tipped ears. He pulled the collar of his grey pea-coat tighter around his neck to cast away the whispers of winter, and he readjusted the maroon knit scarf his mum had given him for Christmas the year previously. Louis looked down the slush covered road outside of his Victorian flat building in the heart of London, England on the corner of Heartthrow and Killian street. The roads were dark, but they had turned the street lamps on above him in a row of blushing orange light that made the ominous, never-ending streets seem not so foreboding in the dead of winter. Orange tinted the snow surrounding Louis in a Halloween- like eeriness that seemed to cling to the sickly air like an infection, casting lurking shadows down the dimly lit corridors of the waiting streets that even caused the virgin white snow to seem tainted and looming.

Louis blew a few stray strands from his eyes as they got caught in the long forest of voluminous eyelashes, but ended up having to just brush the feather-like fringe out of his eyes. Louis cursed as his numbed fingers got tangled and wrangled with the messy length of rat’s nest that clung to his forehead, and he scolded himself for letting it grow as long as it was now. It had been years since his hair had been quite so long; probably dated back to the horrendous days of year 13 with his baby face and bowl cut shag.

Louis had long since grown out of the awkward teenage rebellion years- well, the teenage part. The faint trace of acne that had littered his adolescent face had cleared up to a smooth complexion, and his baby fat had long since disappeared, leaving sharp cut cheekbones and a defined jawline in its wake. His hair was now kempt and washed regularly, swooshed off to the side of his face in a shaggy fringe style that well suited his mature features in a still young, carefree sort of way. And the way that the light, manly stubble lined and caressed beneath his chin and along his jaw held a more mature look- Not that Louis was quite there yet.

Louis readjusted the warm, knit beanie atop his head so that his hair was no longer whipping in the wind, and he dug his hands deeper into the satin lined pockets of his tattered jacket. As he moved onward down Heartthrow, the young Doncaster native decided to take the long way to the place he both loathed and desired more than anything else in the entire world.

The brutal winter air nipped at Louis’s already achingly chapped hands as he rubbed them together for warmth and cursed himself for not picking up a cheap pair of gloves at the store early today. But he just shrugged it off as he kicked a chunk of ice with the tip of the toe of his worn out boot farther along ahead of him and snickered softly to himself. It was a joke really, Louis was complaining about gloves when he was about to off himself. It was truly sick. But that was the sense of humor Louis had always been known for having. He had always been the young child to laugh at those morbidly depressing anti-jokes that made everyone else cringe in disgust and embarrassment. It was just who he was. He was twisted- and he loved it, every single horrifying bit of it.

Slowly, very slowly, Louis strolled down the white-grey snow cloaked roads silently while he listened to the packed flakes crunch and compact under his worn out, suede Chelsea boots. As he walked down the familiar dreary roads of the once beautiful London, Louis let his mind wander through the past for the first time in years. He didn’t like thinking of the past- Louis was much more of a ‘carpe diem’ type of lad. He hadn’t let himself think about those years in a long, LONG time. Too many bad memories were stored in the past. Besides, in ten years it wouldn’t matter what has happened in the past… Well, hopefully.

The thought of whirling machines and squeaking hospital shoes clouded Louis’ mind as a shudder ran through his body. He could practically smell the acidic antiseptic burning his nose, and the pungent odor of vomit tinted his senses as his gut twisted in fright. He couldn’t go back, no, he just couldn’t. He couldn’t risk losing what was left of his sanity in a claustrophobic white-washed room. The last few years had been hell and back for a drained, sick-of-life Louis Tomlinson. Undergoing operation after operation, awaiting the anxious news that they had gotten it- all of it- for once just to feel the dejection when he gets told that it had been an unsuccessful operation- again. He was sick and tired of waiting patiently as physician after physician gave him a weary look, folded their hands in front of them and cast a pitied glance down at a sickly Lou before delivering those same bitter words he had heard time after time again. He was sick of it. Sick of the pity, sick of the visits- as if they would be the last- from extended family he never even knew existed, cheesy ‘Always in Our Prayers’ cards from some old step-mum Patricia, his father’s third failed marriage, and all in all Louis was just sick of being, well, sick. After the last go of it- after the last round of injections, bile, and chemicals- Louis had promised himself that it was indeed the last. There would be no more doctors, no more operations… no more pain.

Louis had faced enough pain in the last eight years to last a lifetime. He’d seen enough death, loss, and suffering to last three lifetimes and he was absolutely sick of it. Sure, the irony of the situation at hand was ridiculous- Louis being a crisis counselor and about to kill himself and everything… But he just couldn’t do it anymore. He just couldn’t. The cancer had taken everything from him, it had taken everything he loved and everyone he loved. It took away his youth with its sickly, weak demeanor and took away the one he loved with the complications, the risk, the stress… That’s all he was. Stress. Stress was all Louis would ever be, just one big stress to everyone around him. These were supposed to be the prime years of his life. Louis was twenty four. He should be out partying into the early hours of the morning until vomit stained his clothes and sweat coated his body in a deliciously atrocious scent of sex, vomit, and one hell of a good time. He should be testing the limits and he should be going out with friends every other night. But he didn’t- and he couldn’t. Instead he was taped and wired, decorated like a Christmas tree with lights on display. He was frail and aching, barely able to get to the loo without an arm to lean on and an arm around his waist to hold up his quivering knees. It was depressing, it truly was, and for a twenty four year old with the heart and soul of a teenager, it was flat out embarrassing.

Winter season in London was brutal. The air was frigid, the temperature made the people passing on the streets even more bitter than normal, and everything was in a constant state of slow motion. The beautifully decorated, glowing window shops downtown were sealed up tightly, becoming a barrier between the enchanting world of riches and the numbing outside desolate wasteland. Passersby kept their heads down, coat collars buttoned tightly, rarely even mumbling out a greeting to others. Louis hated London. He hated the busy streets and irritable pedestrians. Everyone rushes by like ants at work, and they never even take a second to observe the world around them. But I suppose that’s all Louis could really do lately; He could observe.

The air was thick of smog and bitterness clouded and clings in the air around them. The smell of soiled dumpsters, nicotine smoke, and piss filled the streets, permeating the once romantic atmosphere of the now crumbling city. Debris and trash litter the curbs, soaking in the clouded water of mud puddles and gasoline. All in all it was a dirty city. It was the exact opposite of what everyone imagined, even Louis himself when he moved here from Doncaster for his treatment.

Louis moved down the streets slowly, carrying himself with a smug façade of knowing. He was twisted, really. But he was just so done. He was one needle away from his breaking point- One operation, one treatment. If it wasn’t today, then it was tomorrow… Or the day after, or the day after. There was no end for him. So why not just get it over now when he wasn’t feeling pain or suffering in any sort of way? Louis had been fighting for too long now, and he was just tired. His complexion was paper translucent, big purple bags hang loosely under his eyes, clinging to the crinkles in the corners of his once smiley eyes and stretching thickly across the once supple skin. His frame was wiry, fragile, the physicians called him. But Louis knew what he really was. He was weak. His hair had grown back patchy, but had finally evened out in a thin feathery layer. He grimaced at the thought, pulling the grey beanie farther over his ears as he continued on his way. He looked young once, oh yes, he had been quite the beaut and riot. But fighting takes the life out of you and with death breathing down his neck and nipping at his skin, Louis was in no place to take risks anymore. But to hell with it, eh? He wasn’t going to be around much longer anyways, so what would the harm be?

As he walked farther down the desolate side streets of London, passing Gilford Street and Merrian, Louis thought of what was to come once he was gone. He hadn’t had a friend since he was diagnosed at the tender age of sixteen. Well, except for the people at school that pitied him. So there wasn’t anyone to worry about hurting by leaving.

Louis had been popular. He was well liked, never had a tough time in school… Well, until he came out. It had been earlier that year actually, he was tired of hiding it. He was tired of pretending to be someone he wasn’t. Even coming out to everyone he knew didn’t feel wrong. He was finally happy. His family was supportive- his mum apparently having ‘that sense’ since the time he was born- and his closer friends such as Stan and Isaac forced a smile behind their uncomfortable demeanors.

People at school of course never treated him the same. They started whispering and talking, freezing like deer caught in headlights as he whipped around to face them and shoot them the iciest look he could muster. But even Louis wasn’t going to let them get to him- he felt on top of the world- like nothing could touch him. The weight that had been holding him down like an anchor for so long had finally been released from his aching chest! Nothing, absolutely nothing, could hurt him now. But oh, could he have been anymore wrong. Louis started experimenting. He started taking risks and having a good time… And that was when he met him. Louis was the happiest he’d ever been. He was enjoying life and was head over heels in love with the older boy who was captain of the rugby team.

But then it happened. As weeks and months went on, he started to get aches. He started to get pains and fevers, and he started feeling like something was wrong. They ran test after test and finally came to the devastating conclusion- Prostate cancer. It was a rare case- they hadn’t ever seen it in a teenage boy… But there was always an exception, and this time, Louis was that exception.

‘No one would miss you if you left’ is what he told himself day after day as he stared into the dingy cracked mirror in his small 300 square foot studio flat. He had no close friends anymore, unless you count Niall and Zayn who were Uni students that worked at the cozy little coffee shop called ‘Java’ on the corner of Killian and Foster. Louis liked to stop in on occasion to warm up and have a chat with the good looking lads. What could he say, Louis might be dying, but he still had the pent up- teenage hormones he was never able to fully use up.

His mum was remarried with twins on the way, Lottie was busy with schooling and her boyfriend (Who Louis had yet to meet… Was she embarrassed of Louis?), Fizzy had her friends, and Daisy and Pheebs had each other. No one would even think twice if he was gone… If anything it would be a weight lifted off their shoulders. No more stressful midnight hospital runs, no more ‘this is goodbye’ false alarm tear jerking visits, and no more worrying. Things would be better this way. Yes, much better.

Louis continued to think as he shoved his hands deeper in the soft pockets of his jacket, staring at the murky snow crunching below his tattered boots as he strolled along. He didn’t need to watch where he was going; Louis could walk this route blindfolded. The bridge was his place. It was his sanctuary, his escape from the world. On his lowest nights Louis would breathe calmly and make his way to the bridge, mind whirling, but staying in control as he stared out over the deadly waters, mist rolling off of the freezing water like smoke, curling and winding into the warmer air above. The bridge was where he first came when he was diagnosed, so wouldn’t it make sense to end it there too?

The minutes ticked by and Louis took his time, dragging his feet as he contentedly made his way to his peaceful death. He wasn’t worried, he wasn’t nervous… Louis had come to terms with death a very long time ago, and in fact, had welcomed it for a while now. The problem is, people normally view suicide as this sudden thing; you were alive and then all of a sudden you’re not… But that’s not what it’s like, not for Louis at least. He’s been dying for such a long time; he’s been terminal for so long that they just never noticed the difference.

Humming an old nursery rhyme his gran used to sing to him, Louis’s eyes scanned the vast, deserted streets around him. It was a nice part of town with large flat buildings that littered each street with the warm glow of televisions and bedside lamps shining through the curtained windows. Store windows were barred up, shades drawn and neon signs turned off. Across the street on Fantin, Louis could hear the roars coming from a brightly lit Uni bar that was bustling with life and excitement, since winter term started today. Oh how Louis had always dreamed of going to Uni and becoming a therapist… But life seemed to have other plans for him.

It was almost pitch black out, and any normal person out in the earliest hours of the morning would be frightened out of their wits… But not Louis. Fear was in the mind. Fear was weakness, and Louis William Tomlinson was anything but weak. The streetlights flashed a gloomy shade of yellow, casting warning shadows down the long deserted midnight streets of Brisbane avenue. The walk to the bridge wasn’t quite as long as it normally was- blame it on the rush of adrenaline Louis felt coursing through his veins like heroin. In about half the time it normally took, Louis found himself walking down the familiar lit bridge he loved so much. It was empty, of course, except for the occasional taxi heading into the mesmerizing lights of the city nightlife. Louis leaned against the closest railing, combing his fingers through the thin, stringy hair that stuck to his forehead and knotted together into a mess over his eyes. Once the tangle of hair released his numbingly cold fingers, Louis stuffed his hand deep into his pocket once more as he stared out over the murky, dark water. The steam was once again swirling around the surface of the water, giving hope to Louis that the water was cold enough to put him into hypothermic shock quickly. His fingers hit the familiar box deep in the recesses of his jacket and he pulled it out with ease, flipping it over swiftly and opening the carton as quickly as he could. In one fluid movement, he pulled out a cancer stick and his lighter, flicking it over and over until the fire finally caught and sent a puff of smoke curling into the air as Louis inhaled the poisonous toxins deep into his lungs. He held the cloud as long as he could, filling his burning lungs and throat to the brim with a scorching sensation of death before exhaling with a slight wheeze and inhaling again. The craving overtook his body and he puffed away on the carcinogens of tobacco and nicotine steadily.

“You know if you were planning to kill yourself you might just throw yourself over this railing instead of coating your lungs with tar.” Louis jumped three feet in the air at the sound of another person on the bridge. Being after three am on a Friday, Louis didn’t really expect anyone to be walking along this bridge. In his eight years of salvation here at this bridge, not even once had Louis ran into a stray dog or mum strolling her young tot around, so to have someone startle you like that in the pitch of night… Well, let’s just say scared the absolute life out of a young Louis Tomlinson- Ha!

After getting over his mini heart attack, Louis chuckled quietly to himself, shaking his head slightly because truthfully, that was his plan. The stranger had just nearly recited it word for word like he had tasted the words right off of Louis’ sweet ready lips.

He inhaled deeply, exhaling through his nose and watched as the grey smoke curled and floated in the air around him.

“Didn’t your mum ever tell you not to sneak up on someone when they’re standing on a bridge?” Louis took one last drag before flicking the rest of the fag to the ground, watching as the burning embers danced around his feet, scorching and flickering as he put out the last of the jumping flames with the toe of his boot. The smell of nicotine curled around Louis in a familiar safety blanket and dusted the tips of his fingers with a jaundice yellow tint.

The stranger let out an innocent rumble of raspy laughter, obviously not taking the hint that Louis just wanted to be left alone god dammit.

“No, but she did tell me not to go out alone after two a.m.” The voice had a wave of amusement laced in the depth of the gravelly seductive whisper. Louis shivered involuntarily as images of him clouded his mind. The raspy tone, the lust filled words…

“Well then you didn’t listen, huh?” Louis retorted, finally looking up at the mysterious voice. He froze as his eyes lay on the silhouette of a young lad, early twenties at most. He leaned over the rusted railing overlooking the lake, eyes forward on the foreboding depth of the marine beyond. He was a rather tall fellow, towering over Louis’s 5’6” frame by a good six inches at least, and in the flickering white lights above them, Louis could just make out the chiseled contours of his youth-filled features. A black leather jacket with what appeared to be a sheep skin collar hung to his lanky frame in a perfect fit, green scarf wrapped securely around his neck, and black skinny jeans clung tightly to his impossibly thin, wiry legs. Dark brown curls peeked out of a green beanie that was positioned loosely atop his head. All in all the kid looked like he walked straight out of an ‘American Apparel’ ad for the new Uni line. A tight smirk pulled across his thin pink lips and a deep set of dimples protruded from his frost nipped cheeks. Louis felt a small hiccup in his throat as the younger lad turned to face him, piercing green eyes meeting his own light blue ones. A rush of nerves ran through his thick blood and he turned away quickly. The boy was definitely attractive- he’d give him that much.

“Can’t say I ever really followed her rules exactly.” The stranger turned towards Louis with a bright twinkle in his dark emerald eyes. “M’name’s Harry by the way.” The stranger, Harry, held out a mittened hand to Louis and he cautiously took it, Harry’s hand completely engulfing his smaller, daintier one until it had disappeared in a layer of brightly colored wool. “And yours would be…?” Harry cocked an eyebrow as he awaited an answer from the older lad. Louis just shrugged, stuffing his hand back into his pocket and pulling out another cigarette.

“Not really important now is it. Not planning on being here much longer anyways.” He knew he was being rude, sure, but it wasn’t like he was planning on living much longer, well, longer now since Harry came to ruin his plans. But in a matter of hours he would no longer be here, and he’d never see this Harry again, so why is something so trivial as a name necessary?

Harry fought to keep the cheeky grin that was just bursting at the seam of his lips at bay and put up his hands in defense. “Okay. Okay I can tell when I’m not wanted somewhere. I was just here to say goodbye to someone… But it seems that you could use this alone time more than I could so…” Harry gestured around to the bridge with a sad smile adorning his soft features. “I’ll just be off then.” He clapped his hands together before starting to walk backwards toward the bright lights of the city. “It was nice chatting with you.” He turned on his heels, stuffing his hands in his pockets and walking back down the empty bridge.

The sudden need to call out to the stranger overcame Louis. A little part of Louis pleaded and pulled and nagged inside of him, beckoning him back. Louis couldn’t place it, he couldn’t control it, and before he knew what he was doing he let the words that started it all roll out of his mouth like satin.

“Louis. The name’s Louis.” Harry turned around at the sound of the high pitched, sweet voice cutting through the silence of night like the twinkle of chimes in the wind. A smile spread across his face as he licked his lips slowly before turning back around the way he had come.

“Louis... I like that name.”  

 

 


End file.
